Martinez gave him a stern look. Turning his attention back to the radar, he radioed “Negative contact on proximity radar.”

“Nothing?” Lewis asked.

“It can barely see the Hab,” he replied. “The sandstorm’s fu@king things up. Even if it wasn’t, there’s not enough metal in- sh@t!”

“Strap in!” he yeled to the crew. “We’re tipping!”

The MAV began to creaking as it tilted faster and faster.

“13 degrees,” Johanssen caled out from her couch.

Buckling his restraints, Vogel said “We are far past balance. We wil not rock back.”

“We can’t leave her!” Beck yeled. “Let it tip, we’l fix it!”

“32 metric tons including fuel,” Martinez said, his hands flying over the controls. “If it hits the ground, it’l do structural damage to the tanks, frame, and probably the second stage engine. We’d never be able to fix it.”

“You can’t abandon her!” Beck said. “You can’t.”

“I’ve got one trick. If that doesn’t work, I’m folowing her orders.”

Bringing the Orbital Maneuvering System online, he fired a sustained burn from the nosecone array. The smal thrusters fought against